Castle of Spirits Ghost Story

WOMAN WITHOUT LEGS AND OTHER STORIES

I find these two stories interesting, since they both involve a similar spooky character. Both stories occurred to people I know and trust, and both occurred halfway around the world from each other.

The first story took place somewhere around the early 1960's in a rural area in Puerto Rico. My dad's cousin had purchased a car, and like any other crazy bachelor, he would go out partying in weekend nights with his buddies. One time Tio (that's uncle in Spanish) was driving with three of his friends down this dark country road, when all of the sudden, they spotted a woman walking all by herself on the side of this road. What was strange about this whole situation was that there were no nearby homes down this back road, and they had not seen any car going in any direction. Tio, being a gentleman, stopped his car next to the woman, who had turned around to face them. He offered her a ride, to which she agreed. When the guys in the back seat opened the back passenger door, and the dome light came on, they all saw the same terrifying picture: the woman, who was wearing a long skirt, had no legs, and was floating about one to two feet above the ground. Of course, they all started screaming in horror as Tio sped away. To this day, I don't know if he has ever returned to the same road.

The next story involves one of my close friends.

I met Mike during our medical training years in a hospital in Detroit, Michigan, where we worked from 1995 to 1998. Mike is originally from California. Once he was accepted in the medical program he had to move all across the country from the west coast to the midwest. It was during this long trip that he had a similar experience to the one above. Mike went from California to Michigan with his brother driving a U-Haul truck with all his stuff. According to Mike, somewhere along the North American plains, in a dark and unlit highway in the middle of the night, they ran into her. Literally, they ran into her. As they were driving down this lonely road they spotted a woman about 50 to 75 yards from them, standing in the middle of the road. Mike's brother, who was driving, started slowing down until they both realized that this woman right in front of their headlights had no legs, and like the other one from Tio's story, was floating above the ground. According to Mike, his brother stepped on the gas and drove through her. He told me that he remembered the woman's ghostly face distinctively as her empty body went through the cabin of the truck, in between him and his brother. Of course, like in Tio's story they sped off as they screamed in horror.

I find it interesting that both stories were told to me many years apart in different languages by very different people, and yet the same element of ghastly horror is still present.


La casa de La Teja (The House of La Teja)

This is not just one story, but a collection of different tales regarding this house, la casa de La Teja.

Both my parents grew up in rural Puerto Rico during times of extreme poverty, back in the 1930's, in a small town in the east coast of the island named Yabucoa. They were both the oldest kids of large poor families (ten kids in each family), during times when a pair of shoes was a commodity and indoor running water was definitely a luxury. They both grew up in strict Catholic households, in an area where stories of the supernatural were part of everyday life.

The stories that most impressed me have come from my mother's side of the family, mostly regarding this house in Tejas (the family calls this township La Teja). This house was built in 1954 after enough money had been saved by Abuelo and Abuela (grandpa and grandma respectively), and by the oldest kids that had already started making money by working in the sugar cane fields. The house had a magnificent view, overlooking the horseshoe shaped valley of Yabucoa and its fertile plains, all loaded with sugar cane fields. The open side of the valley faced the Atlantic Ocean, the deep blue sea contrasting the extensive green of the valley.

Over the years, many family members have lived and died in that house, which to this day, is still occupied, now by the youngest daughter of the family, Myrta, and her two boys. To this day, many of us, including the grandchildren of this big family, have had different experiences in this house.

Most of the stories I've heard had come from Myrta, the current resident, and Luis, a brother who lives in New York City and who stays at the house everytime he visits the island. Myrta hardly ever likes to talk about her experiences but Luis, who is an avid story teller, seems to love to spook us with his stories.

According to Luis, the house is populated with spirits from the family. My great-grandmother died there in 1971, and so did Abuela in 1972 and Abuelo en 1988. Four other brothers have died (two during their childhood, and two others during their adult years, elsewhere), and Luis thinks they are all there, in that house, walking through the rooms at night. These are some of his stories.

Luis has told us of instances in which the bed in which he sleeps at this house shakes violently while he lies on it. Also he has been pulled by his feet while on this bed. He has seen the shadows of his parents and brothers walking into the room, staring intensely at him. He also mentioned about bright lights, like those of car headlights, flashing from the nearby trees into the house in the middle of the night. In addition, he has mentioned about the sounds of horses running in circles around the house, yet nothing is there when he peeks through the window.

Myrta's stories are less rowdy. When Abuelo was still alive he would sit on the balcony and thump his cane repeatedly against the cement floor, while enjoying the view and the ocean breeze. Myrta claims that she still hears the thump thump thump coming from the balcony in a regular basis, day or night. She won't talk about shaking beds, or midnight leg-pulling, but if you ask her about it, she will turn pale and with a nervous smile will blow your question off.

I don't have any personal stories regarding this house. I do remember though, Abuela's death in 1972. I was only 7 years old. The wake took place in that house, and her open casket was placed in the living room. We stayed that night in the house, my parents and my two siblings. I remember waking up in the middle of the night, and for some God-forsaken reason, I decided to walk out of my bed, into the living room to look at Abuela in her casket. Right there, in the middle of a room lit up only by candles, was the casket; no one else but me and my Abuela. I could hear the men gathered outside, as is customary in country funerals, chatting and sometimes laughing quietly, while the wake kept going outside. Looking at my dead grandma at that time did not seem to bother me. Nevertheless, I believe that moment was carved deeply into my psyche, since I still dream vividly about it.

One more note about Myrta and Luis. Back in the late eighties Luis had come to visit, and again stayed in the house in La Teja with Myrta. Someone in the neighbourhood had died, and the customary rosaries during the wake were planned for one of those nights. Myrta volunteered to lead the rosary. Both Myrta and Luis had walked to the house where the deceased had been laid out, and her mutt dog had followed her to the wake. During the rosary her dog got in a fight with other dogs, which caused the family members to ask for the owner of the dog to leave the premises, since it was disruptive to the event. Myrta and Luis understood and left the wake, and headed with the dog back to her house. Well, halfway to her house, according to both Myrta and Luis, they walked into some sort of invisible wall, and were not able to walk forward. Despite their effort, they could not move one inch towards her house, so they took it as a sign. They turned around, went back to the house of the deceased and finished the rosary. After they were done, they had no problem in returning back to her house. To this day, Myrta thinks that this supernatural event took place because the dead was disrespected.

Do you know of any ghost stories from the island? If you do please email me.

Submitted From: North Carolina, USA

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